the trees are waiting for the night
skies like marble, heavy on my head
what I mean to say is never said

bird shadow hangs in the window
sunlit and faded prints on the floor
paper, place, pining for a door

I look to the space in the kitchen
where you gathered, hours upon hours
of speaking, laughter

now we drift in and out, rainbows
after rain, painting the walls, stirring the air
with each foot step up the stairs

I feel the ache of impermance
you feel it too, I think, we wait;
the moments’ actions and voices as counterweight
to silence

the trees are waiting for the night
skies like marble, heavy on my head
what I mean to say is never said

11/05/2010

Posted on 11/09/2011
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